


rain

by badava



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badava/pseuds/badava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, with a final sigh, he kneels down in front of the headstone, presses his lips against his fingertips, and sets them atop the stone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rain

Marius Pontmercy wakes up early one spring morning. He's greeted with the sound of rain pounding on the roof of the house. The air smells damp and fresh. He sighs and rolls over, hand searching on the opposite side of the bed. His eyes widen to see that his wife, Cosette, is not beside him as she usually is.

"C'sette?" He mumbles, lifting himself up and off the bed, beginning to shuffle through the house. "Cosette!" He calls. "Cosette, where are you?"

Eventually, as he passes by a window, he catches sight of a figure standing out in the pouring rain, arms out. His Cosette, smiling up at the sky, soaked to the bone, still in her nightclothes. Smiling slightly, playfully, he runs towards the nearby door, opening it but not stepping out into the storm. "My love, what are you doing out here?"

She spins around and meets her eyes with his, grinning wildly. "I've always loved the rain!" She tells him, arms dropping to her sides. "When I was younger, Papa would chase me around in it sometimes."

Marius throws his head back and laughs. "You should really come in soon, my love."

She rolls her eyes teasingly at him, shaking her head. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me, Marius."

His blood runs cold at her words, and sudden images of the girl, his best friend, lying in his arms as she died flash through his mind. The smile drops off his face, but Cosette doesn't seem to notice the effect she caused, instead plodding through the mud and puddles over to him, taking his hand. "Come join me." She murmurs, but he shakes himself free from her grip, mumbling a quick "excuse me", turning on his heel, and rushing away.

Half an hour later, he makes his way through the cemetery two miles away from his home, head bowed, hands stuffed in the pockets of the coat he threw on over his bedclothes. Finally, he stops in front of a plain headstone, staring down at it.

_Éponine Thénardier_

His 'Ponine. He somehow feels like he's betrayed her, being so happy with Cosette, the woman he made her find for him when she was so obviously in love with him. Happy with Cosette while she's dead at his hands, coming back from the errand he sent her on. He sometimes even feels guilty for seeing Cosette in the first place; if he hadn't, maybe she would still be alive, maybe he would have fallen in love with her (he sometimes believe he already was before his wife came into his life). Don't get him wrong, he does love Cosette, but there are times when he sometimes wonders if this had all gone too fast, if his sweet, beautiful, darling Cosette wasn't the one for him.

He isn't supposed to feel this, though. He is married, he is devoted, he has a wife at home who loves him more than anyone or anything, who's willing to go great distances for him.

So, with a final sigh, he kneels down in front of the headstone, presses his lips against his fingertips, and sets them atop the stone. "Goodbye, dear Eponine." He whispers before turning around and heading home.


End file.
